


The keys to my heart

by TAle_xistime



Category: The Blacklist (US TV)
Genre: ...rosebud hehehe, Attempt at Humor, Birthday Fluff, Birthday Presents, Citizen Kane reference, Cute, Established Lizzington, F/M, Guns, Lizzington - Freeform, Red is Arams role model, a really late red's/james b-day fic woot woot, kinda not really a valentines fic, saram (mentioned), timeline? I surely do not know what that is sir
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:28:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29410515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TAle_xistime/pseuds/TAle_xistime
Summary: It's Red's birthday and he finds company in Aram when hiding from his own birthday party with the task force. Later after the party, Lizzie decides to give Red a very special gift that takes their new relationship further.Established Lizzington"She physically needed to hold him, to trace his scars in order to fall asleep, to wake up to his beautiful bottle green eyes as often as possible. She needed to be able to fall asleep curled into his side, to know for certain that he was safe and alive with her.This gift could certainly help her with that."
Relationships: Aram Mojtabai & Raymond Reddington, Aram Mojtabai/Samar Navabi, Elizabeth Keen/Raymond Reddington
Kudos: 50





	The keys to my heart

**Author's Note:**

> So this is like a week late. Oops. I promise I didn't mean to procrastinate this for ages, but here we are. Just consider it a birthday/Valentines fic. Even though the only correlation it has with Valentines day is when it was posted. Heh. Enjoy! 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own The Blacklist or it's characters, and I make no money off of my works.
> 
> Please, please, please leave me comments! They keep me going! Even if it's only one word lol.

Red has always found some kind of comfort from cleaning his guns. It’s simple. Straightforward. 

Comforting to know that the equipment that protects himself, Dembe, and Lizzie is well cared for and operative. He will not have time to second guess how functional his guns are when danger is present and barring down on him.

So he makes sure to do that when the danger is not as immediate. Double checking that his slide is clean, that his rails are oiled, that the trigger doesn’t have any gunk around it.

Running a brush down the chamber, and slightly wet patches followed by dry.

He always takes good care of his guns. He supposes he could have someone else clean them, but he doesn’t trust anyone else when it comes down to something that may one day have to act perfectly to keep his family safe.

He will not risk their wellbeing by letting someone do the task carelessly. 

But tonight, they really don't need to be cleaned. They are already practically spotless, in perfect condition. Only a few miniscule patches of gunpowder and dirt can be found in the nooks and crannies of the metal.

He had cleaned this particular model four days ago, his 9mm Glock.

He would usually stick to his schedule, cleaning them about every week considering how often he uses them. But tonight he is welcoming a distraction.

He is hiding out in his safehouse, cursing Dembe, and Elizabeth. He can hear the loud conversation in the living room down the hall, the various FBI agents making a humongous ruckus.

No one has noticed yet that he has snuck out of the party. Normally Red loves going to parties, most especially with Elizabeth.

But going to his own birthday party with the task force is a little strange. Maybe his age is showing with his prickly mood tonight, really he knows he’s being a poor sport. Surely Dembe and Lizzie only wanted him to have a small get together with his now co-workers on his birthday. 

But for some reason his age is leaving a bad taste in his mouth. Probably due to the fact that the woman he is in love with is two decades younger than he is. 

Sure, physically he is still in his early 40’s, being on the run for most of your adult life and having to know how to kill people with only your own strength and stamina to stay alive tends to make you have lean muscle mass that sticks around. But he still doesn’t like to think about his age.

And Elizabeth throwing him a birthday party doesn’t do anything to decrease his anxieties. She has always been quick to reassure him that his age means nothing to her, that he is still more than capable of supplying her with what she needs in their relationship. And he knows this as well, they are perfect for each other intimately. Providing a perfect give and take for each other's bodies. But he still can’t help but feel self conscious.

He doesn’t notice the studies door as it creaks open, distracted by his musings.

“Oh, Mr. Reddington. There you are! Sorry, Liz just asked me to look for you.” Red turned to the sound of Arams voice from the doorway behind him. His Glocks slide in one hand, and a patch in the other.

Aram did a double take as he got a clearer view of Mr. Reddington from the front. Raymond doubted that Aram had ever seen Red at this level of casualty before, his dress shirt untucked and sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing his forearms. He had a few buttons undone on the shirt having discarded his waistcoat and tie on the chair across the room as soon as he had made his escape. He was in his grass green socks, a gun cleaning kit at his feet. The entire picture was probably very strange for Aram indeed.

“Is that, is that the same gun you disassembled and almost shot me with that one time? As a test after the infiltration at the Post Office?” Aram sounded nervous and looked doubly so. He was rather pale. He gulped as Red brandished the frame.

“Mmm. No. That was my 45 cal 1911. This is my 9 millimeter.” Red took an amused pause as he observed Aram’s skeptical brow furrow. “You know it won’t fire in a state of disassembly, correct? Nor that I have any cause to shoot you Agent Mojtabai. I assure you, you have no need to worry about me merely cleaning my guns.” Aram softened a little and moved closer, observing Red’s smooth movements as he ran a dry patch up the barrel and back.

“Is that the service weapon that we are issued, or…” 

“It’s very similar. The FBI’s official service weapon is the Glock 19. Another 9mm.” Red looked up from changing a patch to Aram’s face. “Have you ever cleaned a gun before Aram?” Aram swept his gaze across the table at the various sidearms scattered there.

“I’ve only ever seen you do it before. Here, and, you know. Before.” Red pursed his lips and gave a small hum as he tilted his head to his shoulder, considering.

“Well, if you would be so kind as to not rat me out to Lizzie, I could show you. Or you could drag me back to the party with a loaded weapon in my hands.” Aram blinked, confused.

“But, I thought you said that I didn’t have to worry about a disassembled gun?”

“Well, yes, but I believe that last time it only took me about 30 seconds to put my 1911 back together. I will give you two guesses as to how long it will take me to put this particular model back together.” Red let his face fall deadpan, and Aram took a step back, becoming two times as nervous as he was previously, the mood shifting to a more serious tone.

Red laughed lightheartedly suddenly and swiveled around, pointing to the seat across from him. He shook his head softly, a smile creeping up on his face.

“Sit Aram.” He chuckled. Aram gave a nervous chuckle of his own, most of his tension melting away as he rounded the table to sit in the office chair across from the FBI’s most wanted. He gave a nervous smile as he spoke, still not completely at ease.

“I thought you were, heh, yeah.”

“Not to worry Aram. I somehow couldn’t resist.” Red was still highly amused as he reassembled the gun, in indeed under 30 seconds. Setting it aside on the table of completed firearms he gave another low chuckle. Aram smiled at that as well, being able to count on one hand the number of times he had seen Reddington genuinely smile.

Aram marveled at how quickly and easily Red was able to move his hands, clicking this part and that together as if it was second nature. Though at this point, it must be for him.

“Alright, you take this one, I will take that one. First thing first, double check that the chamber is empty and that the mag is completely unloaded. Keep the barrel out to the side until you are one hundred percent sure that the gun is completely unloaded. Mr. Kaplan and her cleaners would not take kindly to the mess I would leave splattered across my study. I have already set aside and unloaded all of them, but always double check for yourself.”

Aram went about checking his gun, fumbling with the stiff slide for a few seconds before finally opening the chamber. Red did the same thing with his model, in tangent with Aram. Adjusting his speed to match Aram’s unsure movements. Both chambers and mag’s were empty.

They went about stripping their models, Red directing Aram for the first bit. He caught on fairly quickly, and soon only minimal instruction and tips were needed. Feeling more confident now, Aram went about trying to strike up a conversation with Mr. Reddington, trying to fill up the silence.

“So, why are you out here instead of at the party? It is yours after all.” Red’s face puckered as he considered Arams' question.

“It’s odd to be celebrating yet another year of successfully not dying while expanding my criminal empire with the FBI at my latest safehouse.” Aram looked up and nodded at that.

“I guess that would be strange.”

Aram futility attempted to put the recoil spring back into the bolt, huffing as he tried to force it into its slot. Red wordlessly performed the action himself on his gun, and Aram copied it, the spring clicking into place easily now.

Aram spoke again as he oiled his rails, still copying every movement Raymond made.

It suddenly dawned on him that he was helping a murderer service what was most likely a murder weapon, but it didn’t seem to matter.

Aram knew the type of men that Red killed, and he was somehow confident that anyone that got to see first hand what the end of this barrel looked like in the light of a fired bullet, probably deserved it.

Mr. Reddington was, in his own way, a deliverer of justice. Just like the government was. He gave the sort of people that didn’t have a law, a verdict. Aram still didn’t think it was right, and it certainly did not make Mr. Reddington anything other than a criminal himself, but he understood it all, at least.

People like Mr. Reddington, not that Aram had ever met anyone that came even close to the puzzle of a myth before him, covered the gaps that the government tended to miss. It was wrong, and horrifying what he did, but at least he was trying to work in tangent with the government. Even if it was for a selfish reason at least it was mainly good that was coming out of their job. Aram was able to compartmentalize it all, put it into perspective.

What that said about his own character, that he could do that, that he had a criminal as a sort of role model, he didn’t know. 

“What’s your favorite flavor of cake for your birthday?” Red looked up and tilted his head in thought, debating between answers.

“I suppose it would be strawberry, cherry, or red velvet.” He quipped with a smirk, waiting for the next inevitable question, if Aram didn’t put the gag together on his own.

“Why those ones?” Red devilishly grinned as he made it to the punch line of his joke.

“Narcissism.” Aram thought for a second and Red could see the exact moment it clicked. Aram gave a smirk of his own as he caught Red’s joke.

He chuckled alongside Red, and it suddenly dawned on him that he had the opportunity to get to know the most dangerous man he had ever met. As stupid as it was for him, he was an FBI agent after all, he was almost somewhat in awe.

He held a fair amount of respect and fear for the man in front of him. Not for the first time he wondered who Raymond Reddington really was, not Red Reddington, the man that resided on a most wanted poster. But just Raymond. Maybe even Ray. Did he let people call him Ray? 

He wondered what to do now, he wasn’t exactly sure what conversation to lead. Should he keep asking meaningless questions? He figured he really had nothing to lose. 

“What is your favorite movie?” Red looked taken aback by the question and Aram wondered how long it had been since Mr. Reddington had carried on a casual conversation with someone trying to genuinely get to know him.

He set the gun down and considered for a minute, trying to think of a film he could rightfully call his favorite.

He debated for a moment and Aram knew Red was trying to think of how much could be derived about him from his answer.

As it turns out, quite a lot.

Reddington grabbed the gun again and began to put the slide back on as he answered mildly, looking down.

“Citizen Kane.”

Aram considered this for a moment, remembering what little he knew about the film. When the plot came to him, a movie Samar had insisted they watch at date night a few months ago, it all came together as to why Mr. Reddington would call that particular movie his favorite.

Aram found himself wondering if Mr. Reddington had a rosebud moment of his own. What was it? Is that what led him here? Into being a fugitive? Is that why he connected with the film, because he could see himself in Charles Kane? Because he himself had a life altering rosebud moment that ended his innocence?

The door opened, and as Liz appeared Aram knew he was going to be in trouble.

“Red? What are you- Oh. Hey Aram. Wait a second, you were supposed to come get me when you found him so we could drag him back out to the party.” Liz was glaring now at Red’s accomplice, Aram blushing under Liz’s scrutiny. 

“Oh um, sorry Liz we were just-”

“I was only holding Aram hostage Lizzie, he simply knew too much.” Red passed off his usual witty nonchalant nature, taking the pressure off Aram with ease.

Mr. Reddington stood, a sharp snap filling the humor filled air as the now clean gun was loaded, and placed into a holster at the small of Raymond's back. He crossed the room easily, tucking his dress shirt back into his trousers.

He continued speaking as he reached the other end of the room, taking his navy waistcoat off the back of a chair and swinging it over his shoulders.

“But since your amazing detective skills have still led you straight to me Agent Milhoan, I suppose I will have to let my hostage go, and go with you peacefully.” He sighed discouragingly and held out his wrists to Liz, a smirk on his face.

Aram watched the entire interaction with a smile of his own. He still didn’t have a verbal confirmation as to what Liz and Red were to each other, no one knew for sure, but their dynamic was something to behold.

Aram had his own conclusions and hypothesis on the infamous office gossip, and he found Red and Liz to be… sweet. They fit well together, laughing at inside jokes at the Post Office, being overprotective of each other, having lunch or dinner together while going over various blacklisters’ paperwork, and playing a rather convincing couple during undercover ops. 

Not to mention the times when their comm's suddenly cut off, followed by the pair subsequently disappearing together. 

And then the cherry on top, had been last week. Aram had figured that when Liz came to him last week, flustered and blushing, asking for a rather large favor, that would be as much of a confirmation as he would get.

Liz hadn’t exactly told him who he was doing the favor for, or why she needed it done, but Aram knew. He hadn’t asked questions, simply contacted a friend to do what Liz needed. Smiling when he handed her the newly forged item in question. She had asked him to make sure it was done by February 6th, coincidently a day before Mr. Reddingtons birthday.

Yes, Aram has his own thoughts on what Raymond Reddington and Elizabeth Milhoan are to each other. And the knowledge that his hypothesis was practically confirmed to him when doing that favor for Liz warmed his heart. 

Liz gave a humored, yet exasperated sigh, shaking her head with a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She playfully grabbed Red’s wrist and began to lead him out to the main body of the party.

“Knock it off and come cut your cake Red,” She chortled. Something changed in Red’s eyes, his expression softening as Lizzie led him out to the crowd.

He answered more quietly, his small and reverent smile reaching his eyes.

“Of course Lizzie.” 

\----------------------------------------------- 

The party lasted until about nine, everyone turning in early for work the next morning. Except for Lizzie. She hung around, using helping out to clean up as an excuse to stay behind.

Even though the clean up only took 10 minutes at most.

It was soon after the house was cleared and the leftover red velvet cake was put away that Dembe left, a smirk on his face as he wished Red, “A very good Birthday night.” 

The door closed with a small click, the lock moving into place. Red was surprised when he turned around to see Lizzie standing behind him in the doorway, a flat, book shaped gift in her outstretched hand. It had white polka dot wrapping paper, and a red ribbon tied on top of it. 

“Happy Birthday Red.”

She was absolutely beaming, more than a little excited. She had been waiting all night to have Red all to herself, and now that she did she was ecstatic. He stepped forward, amused by her animated expression.

“What’s this Lizzie?” He reached out to grab the gift out of her hand, delighting in the brief feel of her skin brushing against his.

“Open it and see.” She watched as his hands methodically moved, going about carefully peeling the tape off of the present, not wanting to make a mess of the mall’s wrapping job.

She stepped forward almost bursting with excitement. He was curious, a smirk on his face as he examined the notebook now laying in his hand. He looked up to her with a quizzical expression, not yet understanding the gift.

“Flip it over, and read the cover.” She was bouncing on the balls of her feet as he turned the tweed colored notebook over to expose the front hardcover.

It read on top in curly black letters, ‘All the reasons I love you.’

Red did a double take of the cover before looking back up to her, still a little confused. 

“Well open it Red.” She sighed, a little exasperated at having to explain this all to him, too impatient to see his face when he saw the inside of the notebook.

He flipped open to the first page, titled ‘Day one, February 7th’, in Lizzies unmistakable slanted cursive. Underneath the first line was a paragraph of similar scribbles. Red began hastily reading, now dying to know what his Lizzie had written to him.

“Dear Red,

Happy birthday! I’m so grateful for you, and want you to know how much I love you. Because I do. So I came up with the idea for this book. Here's what we do. Every other day we write a little note in this book for the other telling them one thing that we love about them or what we are grateful for that the other does. You can take this little book with you when you go on trips to read when you miss me, and that way you can always have a piece of me with you and you can remember to stay safe and come back home to me. So today, to start off, I would like to tell you that I am grateful for your presence in my life, and I love the way you love me. You are my Polaris. You are my way home too Raymond. In fact, I would like to have your presence around even more, have you around even more. Have my apartment complete with my way home in it as well. Because honestly without you there it’s just a simple building. So, turn the page to get your final birthday gift.

Forever yours,  
-Lizzie.” 

Liz was biting her lip in anticipation, waiting for him to see her present and turn her down. Tell her that they were moving too fast. She had taken a risk doing this, but she knew that she had to.

She needed him, she missed him so much whenever he wasn’t around. She already was missing him too much when he was in a different country, she already worried about him too much.

She needed him to be as close to her as possible when he was home, because she couldn’t be without him while he was in town combined with the times when he was away on business. It was just too much time spent without his presence around her.

The few nights a week they spent together weren’t enough anymore.

Where he was always gone so frequently, where she was always anxious about his safety so frequently, she needed to have that reassurance that he was safe as often as possible.

She physically needed to hold him, to trace his scars in order to fall asleep, to wake up to his beautiful bottle green eyes as often as possible. She needed to be able to fall asleep curled into his side, to know for certain that he was safe and alive with her.

This gift could certainly help her with that.

Red tentatively flipped the page, revealing a silver key. An apartment key.

Lizzie’s apartment key.

The realization hit him like a train, almost knocking the wind out of him. Lizzie wanted him to have her key? To her flat? She wanted to give him access to her house, she wanted him to be able to come and go as he pleased?

His heart swelled, and when he opened his mouth only a small strangled noise came out. He didn’t know what to say. To any of it.

The perfect book, a piece of her to carry with him, to keep him strong when he was away, when he wanted nothing more than to return to her. The words that reassured him that he was enough, and that she loved him, even if he knew that that shouldn’t even be physically possible. For Lizzie to love him. Him. A criminal, undeserving of her love. To have in assurance that she loved him despite his growing age, despite how despicable he was-

And the key, Lizzie gave him a key. She wanted him around. She wanted him. All of the sudden, the concerns he had earlier about his age seemed to vanish, replaced by butterflies in his stomach.

He didn’t have time to reflect on how silly that was, that with all of this Lizzie was simply able to wipe away any feelings of self consciousness he was having, and replace it with giddy excitement. 

Red was still staring at the key taped to the page, with an expression Liz could only read as shock. She couldn’t tell if he was glad that she had made him a copy of her apartment key or not. 

It was technically against her lease, well actually, considering the recipient was the number one most wanted fugitive, most definitely against her lease. But she didn’t care.

She had known all about the rules she was breaking when she went to Aram, bringing him her key and asking him to make a copy of it for her. He hadn’t asked questions, only giving a giddy smirk as a visible lightbulb went off above his head.

She could tell he knew who the copy of the key was for. Most definitely confirming his suspicions when she asked for him to make sure his friend or whoever was making the forgery, was done by February 6th. The day before Red’s birthday. 

She felt a swell of pain and regret, and most prominently embarrassment. How stupid was she? To think that the man that could quite literally have any building in the world to stay in would choose to sleep in her measly flat?

She had been wrong to move forward so quickly, but she couldn’t help but want him around more. Because even as corny as it sounded, he had the keys to her heart, leaving her wanting him. Needing him. 

“Red, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have, I didn’t think about it, I just thought that I could give you a key so that when you were in town I could have you with me and know that you were safe and, I’m sorry I must be moving too fast. I-I can take it back, I completely understand-”

She was cut off by Red surging forward, wrapping his arms around her body. She gave out a surprised huff at the contact, hearing his voice whisper reverently in her ear.

“Lizzie, Lizzie no. It’s- It’s all perfect, I just can’t believe that, that you would-  
Thank you. Thank you for all this, and for loving me. I just- I love you Elizabeth.” His voice was worn with emotion as he spoke, making Liz’s eyes prick with tears in return to his emotional response.

Liz’s embarrassment and fear melted away, replaced by the engrossing warm feeling he was currently leaving wherever his lips delicately kissed her shoulder and neck.

She smiled against him as her eyes slipped closed, feeling the most content as she had in for as long as she could remember. It was all she could do to quietly reply, purring as she basked in the bursts of sunlight his touch was leaving on her skin.

In that moment she knew, she knew that she had the keys to his heart as well. 

“I love you too Red. Happy Birthday.”


End file.
